The Hardest Things to See
by scarletalphabet
Summary: Fitz spends some downtime at Providence tinkering with some old surveillance devices. He tries out a new gadget on Simmons, which lands him in some hot water after Triplett triggers it.


**Title:** The Hardest Things to See

**Rating:** T

**Characters:** Fitz, Simmons, May, Coulson, Skye, Triplett

**Pairings:** Pre-Fitzsimmons if you see the show that way.

**Summary:** Fitz spends some downtime at Providence tinkering with some old surveillance devices. He tries out a new gadget on Simmons, which lands him in some hot water after Triplett triggers it.

**Note:** Based off of youspelledcsi-wrong's post on Tumblr: "is anyone else expecting fitz to install some kind of bug in simmons' jacket so that if triplett gets to close her jacket starts screaming like a car alarm." And yes, Fitz's middle name is completely made up.

* * *

Fitz shut himself off in the little room set aside at Providence for fixing equipment and general gear maintenance. It was small, though so was his space on the Bus, at least compared to some SHIELD facilities that had entire floors dedicated to engineering and R&D. Of course it would defeat the purpose of a secret base to be large, at least a secret base without a large staff dedicated to its defense. Not that that had worked very well for the Hub.

Fitz shook his head of his jumbled thoughts and wandered around the room, examining each drawer and each shelf. All of the basic tools were here, and surprisingly a few of the more specialized ones. His fingers were twitching with nervous energy so he grabbed several items and spread them out on the table. All of their equipment was in good working order, good as it could be at least, but perhaps Providence itself could use some better proximity detectors. To his knowledge they weren't expecting any visitors any time soon, but if they were the good guys (where was Ward?) then they didn't want to blow their heads off. If they weren't...well more precise guns wouldn't hurt.

He slipped into productivity mode as his muscle memory took over, his fingers making familiar movements. Screw that in there, tweak with pliers here, solder that little dot. While he slowed down a touch when working with the soldering iron (he didn't fancy burned fingers on top of everything else), his ease with the quick pace allowed his mind to wander. After the announcement that the Fridge had been taken over, he hoped Ward was alright. Even if he hadn't grown to appreciate the man for other reasons, he had saved Jemma's life. Fitz would be forever grateful for that.

Speaking of Simmons, he wondered if she had been right to insist on Triplett coming with them. In the end it had been Coulson's decision and Coulson wouldn't have let Triplett on the plane if he had serious grounds for objection, but there was something about him that didn't sit right with Fitz. Part of him agreed with Coulson that Triplett should have known that his partner was the Clairvoyant, but Fitz knew that sometimes the hardest things to see were right in front of you. Maybe Triplett should have known because he had advanced Ops training, but no, it went further than that. Something else about him bothered Fitz, but exactly what was eluding his grasp.

A sharp pain jolted Fitz back to the task at hand. "Damn it fucking science!" he swore, shaking his left hand out. While his mind had been wandering his right hand had been zeroing in on squeezing his left hand to death with the pliers, instead of pinching the connection shut. He walked three quick laps around the small room until his body relaxed enough that his breathing returned to normal and most of the pain was gone. "Watch it Fitz," he warned himself, glad that no one else was around to see him. "Wouldn't do to lose a hand in the middle of bloody nowhere." He sat himself back at the table and looked at his work. Most of the proximity detector equipment was finished, but his musings had given him an idea. What if he could take the same basic principles of the proximity detectors and apply it to people?

In his excitement at the prospect of a new gadget Fitz forgot his tablet and started scribbling furiously on a notepad. "Would need some kind of alarm," he muttered. "And what to do about the proximity part..." He looked over the sheet of paper, already full of equations, dimensions, and light sketches. "Damn it, that won't work," he cursed, ripping the paper off the pad, crumpling it up, and throwing it across the room. He blinked in shock when it bounced off of the wall and ended up in a trash can. He hadn't even noticed the can sitting there, and certainly hadn't been aiming for it. With an indifferent shrug he turned back to his workspace. One thing that he missed about working with paper was the feeling of satisfaction you got when crumpling up early drafts and chucking them away. Deleting just didn't have the same feel. If you were going to be wrong you might as well get something out of it.

An hour and a half and two more drafts later a knock came at the door. Fitz looked up to see Simmons at the door. "Coulson's gathering the team," she said. "Apparently Ward is supposed to be here soon and we've got to plan our next step."

"Just one second," he replied, blowing on the last soldered piece in hopes that it wouldn't burn him when he tested it. He extended one finger towards it, feeling no heat. The tip of his finger touched the connection. Good, it was solid and ready to go. He palmed the tiny device and stood up, slipping it into his pocket. "The upgraded proximity detectors are all ready if we need them," he told her with a smile. As well as his little personal proximity detector. Fitz glanced over at Simmons when she turned her back, noticing that one jacket pocket was wide open. He didn't like rushing the creation and testing of his devices, but who knew how long they'd have here. The part of his brain that should have warned him that testing something on Simmons without her knowledge was probably a bad idea was drowned out by a mix of the thrill of another potential success coupled with the need for haste.

"Are you coming?" Simmons called over her shoulder.

Fitz offered a friendly smile back. "Just thinking," he assured her, picking up his tablet and striding over to catch up. He bounced with nervous energy, though luckily that was a familiar enough state that Simmons didn't question it. Simmons's arm moved forward as she walked and Fitz seized the opportunity, slipping the little device inside her pocket. Right as he moved his hand back Simmons's arm swung back and collided with his. "Sorry," he said, scrambling for an excuse. "You know me, all thumbs." He flashed her his most winning grin, telling himself that his nerves were entirely due to his duplicity and not to their accidental contact. He'd hugged Jemma plenty of times before, so why would that little brush be any different?

"You do have a remarkable propensity for clumsiness for someone who is otherwise quite good with his hands," she agreed. Fitz thought that he caught a glimpse of a small blush as she shook her head. "Considering everything that you've made I mean." She turned and gave him an encouraging smile. "Ward was pretty happy that you got rid of that ounce. A bit like a puppy though."

"What?" Fitz asked, not following her train of thought in the slightest.

"You," Simmons clarified, cocking her head at him as she pondered it. "A Labrador puppy maybe. Not yet grown into its paws."

Fitz didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted. Labrador puppies were cute after all.

"Perhaps a terrier," Simmons continued, pointing at his head. "With the curly hair."

Now he was insulted. "I beg your pardon," he countered, stopping still in the hallway and crossing his hands in mulishness. "I'm no small yappy thing." He took a moment to contemplate the possibilities. "You know, pit bulls are terriers too. If anything I'm a Staffordshire."

"Well come on you Canine Cannon Ball," Simmons said, punching his shoulder affectionately. "Coulson's waiting."

"Canine Cannon Ball?" Fitz echoed as they began to walk again.

"Only one of the most under-appreciated characters in The Hundred and One Dalmatians," Simmons explained, managing an indignant toss of her head as they bent down to avoid some low hanging ducts. "The book by Dodie Smith that is. Not that most people bother with the book. He didn't make it into the Disney movie." They turned a corner, dodging a section of the hallway that had clearly been designated as storage since people rarely roamed the halls. "Anyhow," she continued, "He was a Staffordshire terrier. Advocated Pongo ripping Cruella to bits but didn't press his case too much. Granted it was a cameo and he didn't have a proper name, but I always thought that was a cute idea. A Staffordshire terrier in the back of a moving van reading the news, willing to support whatever decision the main characters made."

Their entrance into the room that was being used as a command center prevented Fitz from being able to ponder what sort of parallels Simmons was trying to draw, any further discussion about books or dogs tabled for later. The discussion had already begun with May giving her opinion on the situation to a skeptical Coulson. When his turn came, Fitz mentioned his improved proximity detectors and offered to set them up before retreating into observation mode. While he knew that he was a valuable member of the team, he also knew where his strengths lay and when to allow others to take the lead. Subtly he swiped the tablet, bringing up the monitor for the device that he'd slipped in Simmons's pocket. The indicator was blinking orange, exactly as he'd expect for someone sitting around a table with other people, two of whom were unknown quantities.

Fitz was quite proud that he had managed to rig something this complex up in such a short period of time, though in truth he was building off of other people's ideas so it wasn't entirely his own invention. The device was supposed to measure both the proximity of others and how the wearer felt, combining the two elements in a complex algorithm to discern whether the nearby person or persons were welcome or not. "Supposed to" being the operative words. If Simmons by some chance happened to run into enemies or those who planned to do her harm, the indicator on his screen would blink red and give Fitz a moment to remotely disable it if it was safe. He was still split on whether the device itself should make a loud noise, vibrate, or stay silent. It wouldn't do to give away a person's location, but in some instances the moment of distraction that a blaring siren would provide could be helpful.

The planning session wrapped up fairly quickly, spurred on to its end by Skye's announcement that Ward should be there within the hour. "Well I'd better get those improved detectors up and running," Fitz announced, the first to stand up.

"Ward said that he's a bit banged up," Skye told them, biting her lip in a clear display of anxiety about her fellow agent. "I mean it's a wonder he survived The Fridge takeover and he clearly can walk, but..."

"Right," Coulson said, picking up on her train of thought. "Simmons—"

"Med kit, got it," she interjected, moving towards the supplies.

Agent Triplett put a hand on Simmons's arm and leaned in to whisper something in her ear. Fitz, halfway to the door, came to a standstill. He busied himself looking at an old SHIELD poster that hung on the wall, keeping Triplett and Simmons in his line of sight. He was only trying to keep her safe after all, nothing more. Really, how could you spend all that time with someone and not know?

Fitz's self-justification was brought to a screeching halt by a blaring noise from Simmons's general direction. Oh shit. He sighed and turned around slowly, wincing in dread as he realized what that noise was.

"What the hell?" Triplett exclaimed, reaching his hand into Simmons's pocket and pulling out the small device.

"A bug?" Simmons suggested, her brow wrinkled in confusion. "How would that have gotten in there?"

"More importantly," May added, eyes narrowing with anger, "Who put it there?"

"It's not a bug," Fitz said flicking the blinking light on his tablet to turn off the alarm as he turned to look down at the floor to avoid the glares he knew were coming. The words spilled out of his mouth nearly as fast as he could think them, easier to admit once he got started. "It's a sort of miniature version of the proximity detectors I rigged up for outside. Minus the cameras and things shooting at you of course. It's supposed to set off a blinking light on my tablet which is supposed to let me know so that I can turn it off before it ever gets to the alarm stage which I haven't completely figured out yet what to do with but as you can see it is still a work in progress. And I, er, wasn't paying attention and didn't turn it off in time." He shrugged, his shoulders sinking in defeat. That had sounded much better in his head, though at least he'd had the sense to leave out the part about Triplett being the one to set it off.

"Leopold Alasdair Fitz!" Simmons shouted through gritted teeth.

Fitz's head instantly snapped up at the surprising amount of steel in her voice. If the others thought little of him, well he would be lying if he said that it wouldn't hurt, but it wouldn't be the first time. If Simmons was well and truly mad at him though...it would be almost as painful as losing her for good. He felt his stomach churn at the thought.

"Fitz," Simmons repeated, her sharp gaze meeting his although her voice was noticeably calmer. "What on earth made you think that testing something out on me without my permission was an appropriate thing to do? It's not like I wouldn't have given you permission if you had explained it to me and asked in the first place."

"Well, I couldn't very well test it out on myself if I was the one tracking it and you were the first person I ran into," Fitz offered, painfully aware of how pathetic an excuse that was. Hearing the words confirmed how ridiculous it was that he hadn't asked Simmons. In the past she had rarely said no to helping him test out his gadgets, at least ones that required only passive involvement on her part. He wanted to blame his lack of forethought and consideration on the stress of the tumultuous past few days, but a rather insistent part of his brain pointed out that he was not nearly so scattered over anyone else. Just Jemma for some reason. It must be old stress over being in the field combined with lingering shock over nearly losing her. That had to be what was clouding his judgment. Jemma had been such a dependable part of his life for so many years that he was still adjusting to the shock of the precariousness of life on the Bus.

"Forget that," Triplett declared, cutting off Fitz's introspection with a glare of equal parts disgust and suspicion. "Why did it go off right then?"

Fitz exhaled slowly. He should have known that someone would pick up on that. He didn't want to strain the fragile sense of accord that the wounded team had built by calling Triplett out, but he couldn't shake that slight sense of wariness that he still felt about the man.

Before Fitz could open his mouth to try and explain, Skye's voice cut in. "Look I know this little confab is important and all," she said, falling back into a snarky and defensive tone in her worry, "But Ward's supposed to be here soon and I'll be damned if he's going to bleed out on the snow."

"Skye's right," May muttered. Fitz thought he detected a waver of extra concern in her voice. "You two can sort this out later."

Fitz nodded. While his time in the field had taught him that they didn't have forever, there was certainly enough time to table it for now. "Jemma," he said, looking straight into her eyes as if his gaze could will her to believe him. "What I did was reprehensible and I should not have done it without your consent. While the circumstances are no excuse, as soon as we are done kicking Hydra's arse I am at your mercy."

Simmons expression relaxed into a small smile. "That you will be," she agreed. "That you will be."

Fitz dipped his head and turned to go back to the room top pick up his tools and gear. While there didn't seem to be time to upgrade their security before Ward arrived, who knew what would be needed at hand in the coming hours. Perhaps a little more tinkering would clear his head and enable him to put a finger on precisely why his behavior had been so skewed lately whenever Jemma was involved.


End file.
